


i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead (i think i made you up inside my head)

by bagofdaydreams



Category: Mamamoo, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/F, Jin is ethereal, M/M, Nature nymphs, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Siren!Jin, Sirens, beautiful but dorky, but with a hottie in it, deserted island, tbh idk what this fic will have
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-21 10:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12455780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagofdaydreams/pseuds/bagofdaydreams
Summary: For someone who almost died a few minutes ago, Namjoon should not be thinking what he was thinking.The person with the voice is beautiful.Think brows scrunched in concern, lips so plump they look they’re set in a permanent pout, a moon lit cheek shining under a smooth cheekbone, hair almost glimmering; Namjoon is starting to question his aetheism and wonders if he had landed up in heaven somehow.(Or: Music legend Kim Namjoon takes an impromtou vacation to shake off some writer's block, but ends up falling in love with a siren on a deserted island.)





	1. if home is where the heart is, then we're all just fucked

**Author's Note:**

> So  
> This is my first serious actual fic that I put time and effort into and I'm still not over Jin's love yourself poster at the beach so this is for you, person who made that picture happen, thank you for saving mankind

                                                            

  “ _Genius musician/entrepreneur Kim Namjoon renounces the business world, possibly permanently, and sets out on a sea voyage of self discovery. The inventor of the widely adapted six dimensional sound format that revolutionised modern music genres such as electronic indie pop, said in an interview with Billboard magazine that he tinkered around with sound formatting to ‘make his music sound better’ and did not intend on the massive capitalisation of his ‘accidental invention’. He further furnished vague details of a prolonged vacation aimed at ‘getting his head in the right space’. He also added that he is working on a new album that diverges away from the hip hop influenced tracks he’s known for._

_Kim Namjoon, who is said to have an IQ of a 148, leased his 6D format out to most of the world’s top music labels and is often cited as the father of a new era in music. Merely 22 years of age, the music industry tycoon is said to be one of the best rappers and producers Korea has seen, with over sixty songs credited to his name to date.”_

Namjoon stands in the bow of his ship, sea foam kissing his cheeks and catching on his eyelashes as he watches the ship split the water under him, engines roaring and his crew hobbling about, adjusting to life on the ship. He is subconsciously tapping a beat onto the handrail when the cabin boy let out a faint “hyungnim?” with the ship’s phone in his grasp.

“Kim Namjoon, you fucking bastard”

Namjoon sighs.

“Good morning to you too, Yoongi hyung”

“You took a bleeding vacation, without telling me, and abandoned me to deal with these media vultures?” Yoongi almost growls, voice rough and syllables heavy with sleep.

Although he did not want to be disturbed, Namjoon can’t be annoyed at Yoongi. Yoongi was not only the other half of their rap duo, the only co producer Namjoon didn’t mind having, but also his best friend. He had deserved a notice, atleast, but Namjoon knew how Yoongi got when a new album was being conceived. His tunnel vision took over and wouldn’t clear until every track had been laid out, pored over and edited a hundred times before Yoongi labelled it perfect.

Never in a million years would have Yoongi agreed to let Namjoon take some days off, not with another album in the works. Yoongi would have tied Namjoon to a chair shoved him into the studio if he had told him.

His interview with Billboard would have made print today, and coupled with his seemingly instant disappearance, the press had descended upon a scowling Min Yoongi, who probably wanted nothing more than to set camp in his workroom.

“I had to, hyung, you know I did.”

“No you didn’t.” Yoongi grumbles, but cuts off Namjoon’s elaboration with “I don’t give a damn about your philosophy bullshit, just get your ass back in the studio as soon as possible.”

Yoongi hesitates before hanging up; “Take care of yourself, Joon-ah”

He motions for the cabin boy, a shy but surprisingly strong lad in his late teens and handed the phone back to him. “Thanks, uh,” he hesitates for a second as he tried to recall the boy’s name, “Jungkook”

Jungkook’s mouth twitches into a nervous smile, making him look like a bunny and rendering him younger. He gives Namjoon a quick bow and scrambles to the put phone back before scurrying to the kitchen where the cook, Hoseok was calling for him.

Namjoon turns his gaze back to the sea, its crisp blue going unnoticed as he wondered what the hell he wanted to do.

                                                                                         

 

Namjoon’s three weeks on a ship had, so far, proven useless.

As he steps into his cabin after an evening of watching Jimin, the first mate, belt out My Heart Will Go On to the positively star struck looking captain Taehyung, his feet crunches the wadded up paper that carpets the floor, remnants of vain attempts at writing more songs.

His days follow a similar pattern.

Every morning, he wakes up with sweat clinging to his skin, the air growing increasingly humid as they journeyed south. He makes his way to the dining room where the somewhat alarmingly enthusiastic cook Hoseok brandishes a plate of breakfast. Taehyung shifts from foot to foot as he rattles off a few updates about the wind speeds and their nautical position before sprinting off to find Jimin to do god knows what. (More than once, Namjoon has wondered who in their right mind let Taehyung captain a ship).

He sits on deck, sun warming the back of his neck as he bent over a notebook, scribbling a few haphazard verses. None of it clicks and he goes back to staring at the sea, mind a million minds away.

Once in a few hours, Jungkook hesitantly clears his throat and asks if Namjoon needed anything (“Perhaps a cool drink?”). What Namjoon needed was inspiration, a sense of purpose. Maybe a shot of tequila.

After four albums and maybe a hundred concerts, Namjoon has hit a wall.

He can’t think of things to write about, can’t think of beats to rap to, he can’t function as a musician without almost ripping his own hair out. He had embarked on this pointless sea voyage to break away from the most impenetrable writer’s block he had ever had, but so far, it wasn’t doing him any favours.

If anything, Namjoon is exhaustingly, mind numbingly, bored. He is quickly learning that sitting still isn’t something that boded well with him at all.

 

 

When Namjoon blinks awake that night, everything was pitch black as he scrambles to find his phone. Wincing as he turns it on, he turns on its torch and pads his way out of his cabin.

As expected at two AM, the deck is abandoned. The occasional star winks past thick clouds that hangs across the night sky. Namjoon leans on the deck’s handrails, the sound of the ocean amplified in the silence of the night.

Namjoon is in the middle of nowhere.

Taehyung had shown him some maps that morning, hesitantly jabbing a finger at some small island turned into a private resort and remarking that if they didn’t stop there for food and water, they’d have to run a tight ship until they reached any feasible landmass.

But Namjoon had no idea where he wanted to go.

He’d shrugged when asked about what to do. It didn’t make a difference; He had no destination in mind, and when you aren’t headed anywhere, you can’t get lost.

His breath fogs a little as he sighs and leans down on the handrail. He can’t keep this up for long.

Kim Namjoon needs somewhere to go to.

 

 

It starts out as a hum.

The kind of voice that lingered in the air longer than it should. (Perhaps the wind caught it and embraced it, too beautiful to let go.)

Someone singing.

When it wafts past the thick woollen beanie Namjoon had messily pulled over his ears, he was gone.

Lost in it, claimed by this song, this ethereal, compelling melody that couldn’t have possibly been spilled out of human lips.

He has hardly caught his breath and he is already swaying to it, drunk on it, can’t get enough.

He needs more of it.

He needs to know where the song is coming from, needed to bury himself at its source and let it claim him, wash over him, pull him in, punch the air out of his chest with how heart wrenchingly gorgeous it is.

Eyes fluttering shut, he reaches out to the sea.

Wrapped in a trance, Kim Namjoon tips over the rails and crashes into cold water.


	2. i'm here to save you (i'm here to ruin you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if there are any typos or whatever, my head is throbbing and my fever is still here so welp

When Namjoon wakes up, his chest is burning.

He manages a weak roll and coughs and coughs and coughs, lungs on fire, salt crusted in his nose, on his lips, sand sneaking beneath his clothes and scratching his skin.

“Oh thank-, are you alright? Can you breathe?” A voice spurts next to him.

When his coughing fit subsides and he’s fairly certain he won’t die in the immediate future, Namjoon blinks his eyes open and turned them at the voice’s owner.

For someone who had almost died a few minutes ago, Namjoon should not be thinking what he is thinking.

The person with the voice is _beautiful._

Think brows scrunched in concern, lips so plump they look they’re set in a permanent pout, a moon lit cheek shining under a smooth cheekbone, hair almost glimmering; Namjoon is starting to question his aetheism and wonders if he has landed up in heaven somehow.

Namjoon isn’t sure how long he had been gawking, but he can’t stop for the life of him.

He isn’t sure if it was his sea water intake, or if the person’s eye was twitching. It looks so out of place on someone who seems to have risen out of a mirage. It looks so human.

“Let’s get you inside” he murmurs before reaching forward to heave Namjoon into his arms and only stumbles the tiniest bit, walking to a simple, inviting cottage.

Namjoon tries to say something, perhaps ‘thank you’, but the words come out garbled. Before he realises it, he was blacking out again.

 

 

Namjoon hears the fire before he feels its warmth on his skin.

He pulled his eyelids open and hazily wonders where he was before it all comes back to him.

Namjoon sits up with a start.

“Oh no, you’re still wrung out, you need to rest”, a familiar voice is telling him, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder. Too tired to question the Person With The Voice’s intentions, he lets himself be guided down.

“Who are you?” Namjoon’s voice sounds abused.

When he finally looked up at the Person With The Voice, he freezes. He knows this person. He’s seen him before. How, though, was the pivotal question, given how stunning he is.

“Uh. Jin. I’m, well, I live on this island”

Namjoon blinks. “What is this island called?”

Jin looks a little confused. “Well, it doesn’t really have a name”.

Namjoon swallows, wincing as his throat burns. He needs a warm drink. Some sleep. A new body.

“How can it not have a name?” He sits up, eyebrows creeping together as he attempts to piece together his whereabouts. “Where am I?”

Jin sighs and it sounds tinged with exasperation. “An island. It really doesn’t matter. Here, drink this.”

Namjoon accepts the cup Jin held out, but eyes it for a moment too long, prompting Jin to roll his eyes. “Honestly, I pulled you out of the sea and saved your life, if I wanted to kill you, I would have.”

Namjoon takes a trepidatory sip and felt something zing through him. “What the f-“

“NOT IN FRONT OF THE NYMPHS!” Jin exclaims, his hand whipping forward to press against Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon didn’t expect Jin’s hand to be that warm.

“Um.” Namjoon says again, the syllable sounding awkward, even to his tired ears. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt so clueless and stupid. “The nymphs?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty young. Practically babies, if you ask me.“ Jin says as he moved away, arm extended to return the cup to a table. “Oh please, you’re both _tiny_ ”, he says to the other side of the room. When Jin returns, there is nobody (or nothing) there.

The room itself looks small. The cot Namjoon is lying in is snuggled into a corner of the room, a table that looks more like a desk, albeit without a hundred drawers lining its side, sits to his left and is littered with haphazard bottles and leaves.

Jin exchanges the cup with a bottle and hands it out again. “Oh my god, stop looking at me like you’re going to frame me for manslaughter, it’s just water.” He sighs and rises from the stool he was sitting on.

“Uh” Namjoon groans, vague questions floating around in his fuzzy head, but he is too exhausted to voice them.

“Just sleep” Jin gives him a tight smile and shuts the door behind him.

   

                                                                                     

The next time Namjoon wakes up, it is to Jin and a warm plate of food.

Jin smiles kindly, though it is a little tight with awkwardness and held the plate out to Namjoon, who hoists himself into a sitting position before almost greedily reaching for the plate. Jin tentatively sits on the too short stool again.

“Alright, I have some questions” Jin says.

“Funny, seems like I should’ve been the one to say that” Namjoon scoffs as he scarves down his noodles.

“Fine, we’ll go with yours first” Jin sounds impatient.

“Where am I?”

“An island, we’ve been over this”

“But _what_ island _?”_ Namjoon presses on.

“Just an island. Floating on the ocean somewhere.”

“But it has to have a name”

“Oh my god, we can call it Jin’s island if it matters that much to you” Jin sounds emasculated. He is blinking to the extent that his eye could have been twitching.

“Alright,” Namjoon concedes; “But who are you?”

“I’m Jin”. The answer sounds mechanised, practised.

“And you just live here?” Namjoon frowns, “With no human contact? How do you have furniture then?  A solid room? Food? Produce for food?” Questions tumble out of Namjoon as the absurdity struck him. Here he was on ‘Jin’s Island’, with no idea how he got there, eating food that belongs more in a warm, cozy inn rather than a deserted island, chit chatting with someone who has possibly abducted him, and oh by the way, his abductor has a suspiciously familiar, sweet voice and is also distractingly attractive.

“Um. Yes, ah, well, I’ve lived here for a while and I have..resources to acquire supplies and um, other.. facilities” Jin looks equal parts confused and taken aback.

“Alright? But how does it work exactly, do you have supplies coming in from air or something? If so why do you live here alone?” Namjoon hesitates before stuffing in another mouthful of noodles and inspects them as they hung off his chopsticks. “Are you sure you’re not going to kill me or sell me for ransom or something?”

“Oh my god, _no_ , I just live here and I possess no ulterior motives for nursing you” Jin groans as he rubs his palms over his face. “They’re all usually in shock for atleast a week, what is it with you, ugh, screw it, might as well-“

He cuts himself off, hollering “SCREW ISN’T A CURSE, MOONBYUL”. A confounded Namjoon stares at him. Jin tries to wave it off but he is turning to speak to empty space again, “I would really appreciate it if you two kept your innuendos to yourselves”

Namjoon’s eyes are set in the blank, vaguely terrified stare of the truly overwhelmed. Jin glances back at him and winces.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry alright, so um, I’ll explain, eventually..”

Namjoon’s features are falling into a petrified gape with every passing second.

“In good time!” Jin stumbles over his own words. “Just tell me how you got here”

“Uh.” Namjoon wipes at the sweat beading on his forehead. “I fell into the ocean?”

“Do you generally fall in seas often or did something make you fall?” Jin’s thick eyebrows are inching closer.

“I don’t.. really remember? It’s, um, kind of a gap in my memory” Namjoon reaches an awkward hand into his hair.

Jin groans.

“Did you hear a voice?” he asks.

“T-the, uh, people you were..talking?..to?”

“Not them” Jin waves his arms at the back of the room. “When you fell. A voice. Singing.”

“Uh. “

When Jin hums a hesitant note, Namjoon sits up straight, his mouth dropping open. He knows that voice.

“MOONBYUL!” Jin sputters. “I THINK I ASKED YOU IF THE SEAS WERE CLEAR?” His ears are tinged red, and he whips his head from side to side as he bleats. For someone who had seemed almost mythical all this while, he somehow seemed all too human now. “And _god_ , it won’t kill you to show yourself to the poor man”

The air next to Jin shimmers as a small, petite girl fades into view. Namjoon shrieks and almost chokes on his own spit.

“Well since you refused to get your own, we had to arrange one for you. I like him, he raps good.” Moonbyul muses, unaffected by how shaken her company seem.

“I do _not_ need you to set me up, oh my _god_ ” Jin moans and buried his face in his hands.

“Uh” Namjoon’s voice sounds higher, the timber of his voice forgone in the midst of the utter s _hambles_ his life was in right now.

“You should make that a song, Namjoon-ssi.” A new voice says as another girl materialises next to Jin. “Um, oh, ah, it seems to be all you can say. Are you sure he didn’t hit his head or something, Moonbyul?” she leans back to peer at Moonbyul past Jin’s slumped form.

“H-how do you know my name?” Namjoon is convinced he was going to brutally murdered at this point.

“Good job, Solar, terrify him and freak him out, that’s exactly what we need right now.”

Solar shrugs. “He’ll be okay, he’s not as stupid as some of the lot who wash up here. We did good.”

  Moonbyul walks to Solar and slings an arm around her waist. “Yeah we did”, she says and gives Solar’s ass a pat.

Namjoon looks (and feels) like he is half a moment away from a panic attack.

“Alright look” Jin waves his hands as if clearing the air. “I’m magic. Moonbyul and Solar are magic. They’re more of nymphs and I’m more of a, uh, siren.”

Solar laughs at Namjoon’s expression. “You’re not really helping, either, Jinnie”, she giggles.

“Alright look, Namjoon-ssi”, Moonbyul flicks her bangs out of her eyes. “Jin’s voice has some enchanting properties, so to say. That’s why you don’t remember how you got here. It sort of took over you”

Namjoon blinks as his brain struggles to process anything he was hearing. “Like.. sirens that cause shipwrecks?”

“Yes!” Solar beams. “See, we told you we picked a good one”, she says to Jin.

Jin emits an half- sob and flashes her a thumbs up.

“Aren’t sirens, um, evil?”

“Kinda. But Jinnie? Nah, he’s pretty nice. It’s kind of lame, but each to his own, I suppose.” Moonbyul pats Jin’s shoulder.

“Thanks for the feedback, Byul”

“S-so you’re..?” Namjoon trails off as he waved a finger between Solar and Moonbyul.

“Gay, yes” Solar nods.

Namjoon blinks. “No, I meant...nymphs? But, uh, good to know..?”

“Alright listen, we know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to calm down.” Moonbyul sighs, the sound somehow sounding like she was rolling her eyes. Jin shrinks further away, the expanse of his back folded in almost comically.

“How do you know my name?” Namjoon doesn’t seem very comforted by Moonbyul asking him to calm down.

“We’re magic, we know stuff. Don’t be so cynical and inquisitive,” Moonbyul pokes a finger at Namjoon. “You two need to stop worrying and start frolicking”

“MOONBYUL!” Jin’s head shoots up, sounding every bit scandalised. Namjoon just gapes.

Solar giggles. “Let’s give these two some space.” She hooks her arm around Moonbyul’s elbow and they both promptly vanish with a small pop.  

When Namjoon shifts uncomfortably, he first assumed it was the result of the undeniably awkward silence that hung in the air. A few heartbeats later, his fingers itch with the need to do something to stop the craving that was sneaking into him and sudden clarity sparks in him.

Jin has migrated from his stool to lean over the table, peering into his bottles with an empty gaze when Namjoon calls out, “Jin?”

“Yes?”

“Will you..sing for me?”

Jin sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It’s started. Oh my god, it has already started”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I need to go easy on worshiping Jin's face? Probably. Am I going to? No.


	3. frustration (bow my head)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter and sad-ish, I'm sorry about that .-.   
> We shall return with island shenanigans in the next one.

Min Yoongi sits dead to the world in his rolling chair, parked in his (and Namjoon’s) workroom, staring holes into the computer screen, his eyes on fire.

Ever since he found out, he hasn’t moved. He can’t remember the last time he was this frozen in place. Must have been when he was just a kid, picking through a looming city, not knowing where his next meal would come from, auditions on top of auditions, selling his songs off at prices cheaper than a paper boat, feeling utterly terrified and so, so alone.

Min Yoongi isn’t a particularly demonstrative person.

He wiggles away from hugs, frowns at excessive physical contact, blanches at cheesy declarations of love and yet, revels in secret smiles when everyone else has turned away, mocks the affection thrown his way, but at the same time he cradles it close to his heart and loves his people to death. But now, in the lonely darkness of his studio, Yoongi wonders if he should have loosened up a little; told people what they meant to him.

Perhaps he should’ve hugged him a little more, told him when seized by rushes of affection, complimented him a bit more (“Good job on the song”, “I really like this verse”, “Great stamina on stage”), thanked him a bit more (“thank you for taking care of me”, “thank you for interacting with our fans so much”, “thank you for sticking by me”, “thank you for doing this with me”, “thank you for being my best friend”)

He plays the news clip again.

A petite reporter cradled the handle of her umbrella, the sea wind blowing her hair into her face. “Kim Namjoon, the influential rap legend who also invented the six dimensional music technology (Namjoon hates it when they say that, Yoongi muses) is, of today, missing. The superstar is said to have taken a vacation to ease his stress levels about his upcoming album alongside fellow rapstar Min Yoongi, but was missing from his ship Tuesday morning. His absence was discovered by his crew who then made their way back to Korea.  A search mission is in place at the moment.”

The camera cuts to some guilty looking men, (practically boys), one of them with hair uncut for so long, you couldn’t even see his eyes. They all look young, so very young. Namjoon’s age at the most, if not younger. What the fuck was he even thinking?

Min Yoongi thinks, for the millionth time that day, that he never should have let Namjoon go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me comments!


End file.
